Take Some Getting Used To
by the kid from colorado
Summary: Oneshot. After three years, Artemis has finally returned, as told by Butler. If you haven't read The Lost Colony, don't read this. Spoilers!


Yeah, yeah, I know I haven't finished School Daze, but I really had to get out this idea. Keep an eye on this—if I can follow up the plot idea I've got swirling around in my head, this might turn into a full-length story. AFTER I finish School Daze.

This is my first oneshot, so please bear with me. I hope you enjoy it!

Take Some Getting Used To

Butler had been out walking. He did that often, these days. He wasn't as young as he used to be, but his body craved activity. Butler had taken to strolling down the coast during the cool mornings, sometimes stopping to rest on a rock and meditate. He had a lot to meditate on. His mind felt older than his body did. And no wonder, after all he had been through.

Today, as Butler took one of those little breaks and stared out to where the sea and sky melded together, his thoughts were far away. A far distance and a far time… or not so far. Had it really been only three years? At times it seemed like an eternity, and at other times it seemed like a blink. Butler tried hard not to think about that day in Taipei 101. The memory still burned so fresh that Butler could almost imagine the raven-haired Irish teenager sitting right beside him, enjoying the quiet with him. He almost felt that he could turn and strike up a conversation. On a wistful notion, Butler did turn, half-expecting the boy to be sitting right there, his intense blue eyes trained on the horizon. There was, of course, no one there. Butler was alone.

He sighed. Artemis had said he would be back. Butler had waited, and he had hoped. But three years was a long time to wait, and the hope was beginning to wear thin. The Fowls were almost ready to give up. Butler did not know how much longer he could keep it up himself. The only person who seemed entirely certain that Artemis would return was Minerva.

Butler almost smiled behind his beard. Young Mistress Paradizo had grown up over the last few years. She was vibrant and witty, with the same blond curls and the same horn-rimmed glasses, giving her a pretty and intelligent appearance. She had several boys calling her, but after the science and mathematics she stuffed down their throats during the first conversation they usually didn't call again. Minerva only laughed—she did not mind. She was waiting for the one person who had ever really understood her to return.

Minerva visited Butler often, here in Duncade. At times it was almost like having a female Artemis around. She stayed in the spare bedroom, and they talked about books (she had somehow talked Butler into reading fiction and had turned him on to some very good classics) and the village, politics and the military, weaponry, martial arts and, occasionally, Artemis. Well, Butler supposed the topic of Artemis came up a little more often than _occasionally. _Minerva loved to speculate about the friend she had made and lost in a three-day span: where and when he was now, what he was doing, what he would look like when he returned, whether or not he missed them. She had cried, once, about a month after Artemis had disappeared, but that was the only time. Butler had cried a few times, and only once in front of Minerva. It had been a while since Butler had hurt badly enough to want to break down. Now the pain had ebbed to an ache, an empty space the Irish boy had occupied.

Butler got up off the rock and turned back toward the village. The sun was beginning to brush the clouds lying on the horizon. Day would break soon enough. Butler set off at a brisk pace, energized by the morning air. He waved to the fishermen as they readied their nets for the day. Duncade was a peaceful, sleepy little village, almost a throwback to the early 1900s. Butler enjoyed the solitude; Minerva adored the place. "It's just like a setting in a book," she had sighed during her first visit. Needless to say, she had wandered up and down the coast with Butler and explored every fissure and eddy and cave that took her fancy. _That _was almost just like Artemis—Minerva got an idea in her head and she followed it, leaving poor Butler ready to tear his hair out with trying to keep up.

The steep slope up to the village on the cliffs was a bit of a climb for Butler. His Kevlar-weighted chest slowed him down, but he pushed on, puffing a bit when he reached the top. The Kevlar was a souvenir from an incident with a Chicago megalomaniac, Jon Spiro. It was Artemis's ambition that had gotten them embroiled in it, and it was Artemis's cleverness that had gotten them out. Butler stopped, allowing that memory to sink in. It almost seemed like a happy one—even while Artemis, Butler, Juliet (Butler's little sister), Holly, and Mulch had been one step ahead of being killed the whole time, the flush of victory and pride still seared through his chest when he thought of it. After that particular incident, the People had wiped all memories of their adventures from the minds of Artemis, Butler and Juliet. A year later Artemis and Butler (and Juliet too, afterward) had gotten their memories back and kept the races of the Mud Men and People from colliding—again. And then… it had happened. Butler couldn't help but wonder if the memories should have stayed forgotten. He slammed down the thought immediately—No, he said to himself, shaking his head. Think of how different it would be if they had. Artemis had helped to save the world again. Butler smiled when he remembered what the boy said later: "It doesn't get any easier." He had been right. And the last time he'd saved the world had cost more than any of them had ever bargained.

Butler walked along the road that led to his cottage when he noticed the ground. His soldier's instincts told him that something was different. He crouched and brushed his fingers on the ground. When he drew them back, they had a light coating of gray dust. Butler sniffed it, gingerly—ash. And not just any ash, _volcanic _ash. Butler frowned. That was strange. He wondered where it could have possibly come from.

Farther on down the road, a group of men were leaning against the concrete bollard, laughing raucously. As Butler approached them, one man waved.

"Evan!" he laughed. Butler waved back—here in Duncade, he was under the assumed name of Evan McGregor. The name, his beard and hair, and the simple villager's attire he wore helped Butler blend in with the natives, even at the size he was. The villagers bought it completely, and were very friendly with him. The man waving hello was Sean Fletcher, a lanky and gregarious fisherman.

"You'll not believe what Edmund's just been telling us," he went on as Butler approached. He nudged the rather crestfallen man beside him. "Go on, Ed, Evan wants to hear too."

Edmund Connell's face was flushed with embarrassment. "It's true, you know," he muttered dejectedly. "I've not had a drink since Tuesday, so I didn't imagine it. A twenty foot wave, racing to shore, ready to bash all the boats to pieces—" The other two men laughed loudly and Edmund went redder still, cutting off his story abruptly.

"So, as you can see, our dear friend here has been hitting the happy juice during the night," laughed Sean. He nudged Edmund again. "Does Martha know about that, eh, Ed?"

"I haven't—" Connell began, but he was cut off by Brian, a heavyset and serious-looking man with thick black hair and eyebrows.

"Edmund's not the only one who's seen strange things today," he said, looking at Butler warily. "I saw something not five minutes ago. Strange boy—couldn't be any older than my lad Ian. Come walking down the road from the quay wall in a ragged suit, of all things, covered in soot. I've never seen the boy before 'round here. He headed down towards your place, Evan."

Butler frowned, cutting a groove between his thick eyebrows. Instinctively his hand when to his jacket pocket, where, out of force of habit, he always carried a laser-sighting handgun. He hadn't ever thought he would need it in Duncade, but his soldier's instinct told him that it always paid to be prepared. Now he might actually find an occasion to use it.

"Thanks," he said to Brian. "I'll keep an eye out." He set off towards his cottage, his senses buzzing, wondering what was going on.

The little three-room cottage was visible around the corner, its flowers in the window boxes perking up in the rosy dawn light. The window boxes had been Juliet's touch—she loved flowers. They were remarkably easy to take care of, too—had they not been, Butler (who was not much of a gardener) was certain they would have died long before now. Butler's gaze immediately focused on the door. Not only was the alarm, to which only Butler and the Fowls knew the code, switched off, but the door was wide open. Whoever it was inside was clearly not concerned with being discovered. If anything, Butler had the suspicion that this person _wanted _to be found.

Butler slid the handgun from his jacket pocket as he approached the door. He noticed the trail of ash leading into his cottage. It was, undoubtedly, the boy Brian had described. Butler kept the safety of his gun engaged. Scared was always better than dead. He stepped into the doorway and pointed his gun.

The youth was standing at one of the many bookshelves, examining the titles. He seemed innocent enough—a slender youth, hardly intimidating. But Butler had learned very early on that looks were deceiving, and even a fairly harmless looking teenager could prove one heck of an enemy. Butler remained on his guard. The boy was the average height for his age of about fourteen years, but Butler could see from the slight build of his body that the boy was going to be getting quite a bit taller, and soon. The boy's back was to Butler—all Butler could see of him was the tattered suit and a head of raven hair in a neat crew cut. The boy evidently had no idea that Butler was there. Butler trained the laser sight on the tip of the boy's finger, which was tracing out the letters on the spine of _Moby Dick._ A small red dot appeared on the boy's fingertip.

"You know what that is?" Butler asked. The boy stood still—he did not seem frightened, but he was cautious enough to do what Butler said. The boy nodded. "Good. Then you know what happens if you do anything to upset me."

Another nod. The boy still didn't seem scared at all. Butler was impressed—anyone else would have been quaking in their shoes. Maybe the boy suspected that Butler wouldn't actually shoot him. He was right, of course, but Butler didn't want the boy to know that.

"Excellent, you're doing very well. Now lace your fingers behind your head and turn around."

The boy did as he was told and turned slowly, looking up into Butler's face. It was dark in the cottage, but Butler noticed immediately that the boy looked very familiar. He took in the sharply defined face, the narrow chin, the pale forehead and the black crew cut. Butler felt his breath catch in his chest as he looked into the boy's face—he was wearing a mixed expression of slight astonishment, relief and sorrow. The boy was the same height, the same build—but it could not be, there was no way…

"Butler?" the boy asked, his expression echoed in his voice. "Are you behind all that hair?"

Butler took a shock step backward. That voice. _His _voice. How many times had Butler thought of it over the past few years, heard it in his thoughts, saying, "I will return." How many times? And here it was, coming out of this boy who looked and sounded exactly like…

"Artemis?" he rasped. His throat had gone suddenly very dry. "Is it…?" Of course it was. What a stupid question. "You're the wrong age! I always thought…"

"The time tunnel, old friend," said the boy. Artemis. "I saw you only yesterday."

Yesterday. Three years ago. Butler's mind reeled. This could not be happening, and yet he desperately wanted it to be. He strode over to the window and yanked open the curtains, accidentally pulling them, rail and all, away from the wall. He turned—the red light of sunrise was falling on the boy's face, illuminating his features. Trembling, Butler knelt. At this height, he was almost as tall as Artemis was standing. He took the boy's face in his hands, and with massive thumbs rubbed the grime away from the boy's eyes. There was something amiss about the eyes, but they were just as intense as ever, boring back into Butler's gaze. What Butler saw in those eyes nearly made him buckle: there was a slight, unexplained fear; a pain from something the boy had seen and had marked him forever; relief at finally finding somewhere safe; and a heartbreaking happiness at seeing his old friend, three years aged; but behind all of that there was a quick and clever nature, a sarcastic sense of humor, and a thousand shared memories. Butler knew those eyes. It could be no one else.

"Artemis, it is you." Artemis placed his own hands over Butler's, feeling them gently as though to reassure himself that Butler was really there. "I had begun to think… No, no. I knew you would come back." A slight smile played across Artemis's mouth. Butler felt relief and joy soar through him. He _had _known, all along. "I _knew _it. I always knew it."

Unable to restrain himself, Butler wrapped his arms around Artemis in a bear hug so strong it was astonishing that he didn't snap the boy in half. Butler could feel Artemis's arms around his neck, hugging back with all the strength he had; the boy was trembling. Butler could feel Artemis's racing heartbeat next to his chest. This was real. Butler allowed himself a few sobs—Artemis had come home. At long last, Artemis was back.

Butler pulled himself together. Suddenly he felt three years younger. He was a bodyguard again, and he needed to be as solid as an oak for Artemis to depend on. When he released his young charge, you would have never known he had been crying.

"Sorry about the beard and the hair, Artemis," he said. "I was blending in with the natives. How was your… eh… trip?"

Trip. What a useless word to describe three years of absence. But, Butler thought, looking at the unchanged Artemis, maybe it _had _been just a trip. On Artemis's end, anyway.

Artemis smiled. Apparently he thought just as much of Butler's word choice as Butler did himself. There was a glimmer of tears in his own eyes, and he wiped them on the back of his hand. "Um, eventful." There was the slightest trace of an incredulous chuckle, as though _eventful _hardly described it. "If it hadn't been for Holly, we wouldn't have made it."

Butler was sure Artemis had an exciting tale to tell, probably full of harrowing escapes and scrapes with death that would make Butler groan and absolutely terrify Mrs. Fowl. But that could wait. Butler studied Artemis's face. There was something out of place.

"Something is different," he said. Artemis locked his gaze with Butler's, and it hit him. "My God, your eyes!" Butler didn't know how he could have missed it before. Instead of two piercing blue eyes, one eye had changed colors. It was now fairy-brown, a hazel color that was familiar but certainly didn't belong to Artemis.

"Oh, yes. I have one of Holly's now. It's complicated." Artemis seemed completely untroubled by the change in his appearance. Butler could only nod.

"We can swap stories later. There are calls to be made." Butler reached over and plucked a cordless phone from its cradle. Artemis looked slightly puzzled.

"Calls?" he repeated. "More than one?"

Butler looked back at Artemis. "There's your parents, of course, but I should call Minerva too."

Butler saw how Artemis's features flickered briefly for a moment—somewhere between pleased and surprised. He almost grinned. "Minerva?" Artemis repeated.

"Yes. She's been here several times. Almost every school holiday, in fact. We've become good friends; she's the one who started me reading fiction."

"I see." Artemis's eyes roved over the bookshelves, taking in the many titles. Butler wondered if the Irish boy could possibly have read all of them, but it wouldn't surprise him if he had. Doubtless he and Minerva could find a lot to talk about just on the plots of the many tomes.

Minerva. Butler could hardly imagine her expression when he told her Artemis was back.

"It's Artemis this, and Artemis that," he said, pointing the phone at the boy. "She has really built you up to be something special. You're going to have to work hard not to disappoint her." Butler saw Artemis swallow, and that shadow of fear and doubt he had seen earlier flickered across the youth's eyes, just for the briefest moment. Although he knew Artemis better than anyone else in the world, he wondered what that fear could be about. He had never known Artemis to be afraid of anything. Cautious, certainly, but never afraid. His ego was too big for that. "Of course, she's grown up a bit, even if you haven't," Butler continued. "And quite the beauty." Butler might have imagined it, but he thought he saw Artemis blush, just a little. It might have been a trick of the light. "Sharp as a samurai sword, too. There's a young lady who could give you a run for your money at chess."

"My parents?"

"You just missed them. They were here yesterday, for the weekend. They stay in the local guesthouse whenever they can."

The Fowls had been down to Duncade several times over the last three years. Those were always the hardest visits. Butler's heart ached when he thought of the pain Artemis I and Angeline Fowl had suffered at the loss of their son. He looked at Artemis, wondering: Could he possibly know? Could he know just how much pain he's caused? Does he even care?

Butler looked into Artemis's eyes and immediately found his answer. That fear—Butler could identify it now. It was fear that Artemis had permanently wounded his parents, his family, his friends. It was the fear that they could never forgive him for the pain he had accidentally brought upon them. There was once a time when the great Artemis Fowl wouldn't have cared one way or the other about the feelings of those around him. Now, they meant all to him in the world.

Butler laid a hand on Artemis's shoulder. "These last few years," he said gently. "It's been terrible for them. I told them everything, Artemis. I had to."

"Did they believe you?"

Butler shrugged. Sometimes he didn't believe it himself. He didn't say that, of course: "Some days they did. Mostly my fairy stories just added to their pain. They think I've been driven mad with guilt. And even though you're back, things will never be the same again. It would take a miracle to erase my stories, and their suffering."

Artemis nodded slowly and raised his hand so that his palm was facing up. There was a rough patch where the skin had been scraped as though against stone. A look of concentration passed over the boy's face. Butler's eyes widened as five blue sparks materialized from Artemis's fingertips and targeted the graze, wiping it away like a cloth. Healing sparks. Fairy magic. Since when could Artemis do that?

"Maybe we can arrange a miracle," he said quietly.

By now, Butler could not have been more surprised if Artemis suddenly shrank three feet and turned green like a sprite. "That's a new trick," he said shortly, quirking his eyebrows. Artemis read the question on his face.

"I picked up a little more than an eye in the time tunnel," he explained, without really explaining anything. But that was okay—just Artemis being Artemis, maddening as ever. Butler realized with a sudden pang just how much he had missed it.

"I see," he said. "Just don't do it around the twins."

At first, Artemis didn't quite realize what Butler had said. "Don't worry," he replied. "I won't." Then he blinked and knitted his eyebrows as he took in the statement. "What twins?"

Butler began to dial the Fowl Manor phone number, smiling. He had been waiting to drop _that _bomb for quite a while. Artemis wasn't the only one who could beat around the bush just to be difficult. "Maybe time stood still for you, big brother, but it didn't for the rest of us."

If he hadn't known what he was going to have to say in just a few moments to the person on the other end of the line, Butler would have laughed at the look on Artemis's face. The boy looked as stunned as if someone had smacked him in the face with a frying pan. He staggered backward into the room's only chair and sank into it. He was still trying to take in "big brother." Butler grinned when Artemis's expression changed as he realized…

_Twins!_


End file.
